#I love the little insignia he has in some of the art I’ve seen and in the comic snippets I see

[unimooshi]

Today, followers, I offer a lazily finished doodle of Megatron from memory I started two months ago and never picked up again, but finished because it’s eating at me and I wanna distract myself from finals. Tomorrow? Who knows. Probably nothing

[the-descension-inks]

Sojourn (Zutara Week 2020)

Summary: It's a strange fate that they have crafted for themselves; lines that don't quite meet, stars that circle each other, and stories that are almost written. (Or, glimpses into Zuko and Katara's lives, told in reverse, from the very end to the very beginning.) 

[4/9] Celestial

There's a beat, and then another, and then finally: "We should probably get going." Her lips curve into half a smile. "The aurora awaits."

A thought occurs to him: "I was thinking of that story you'd once told us. About spirits and the aurora."

She pauses for a moment, and he worries he remembers more than he should. But then: "You always seemed to like that one." A smile ghosts up her face, voice coming from somewhere far away, "A path from this world to the next, so tough that one gets lost in the darkness of the night. And so the old spirits decided that they'd shine a torch and guide the new spirits home, giving birth to the first aurora, and all the ones that came after."

Read the entire series here, and this chapter under the cut, or on AO3, or on FF.net.

154 AG

The south pole, Zuko realizes as Druk carries him through the iridescent skies, is truly something else bathed in the light of the aurora.

The light bounces off the snow, green and blue, and swirls in the air around him; ethereal and otherworldly. It makes all the stories he has heard over the years about spirits slipping in and out through portals of nothingness seem all that much real.

The ship bearing the Republic City Police insignia looms into view at the dock below him. A smile creeps up his face as he maneuvers his dragon closer to the woman who is leaning heavily against the ship.

"I hate shoes," is how Toph greets him, kicking at the snow sullenly to make a point.

A laugh bubbles out of Zuko, and he extends an arm forward that she takes without hesitation.

"It's good to see you, Toph."

She grins at him, cocks her head to the side. "You too, Sparky. You look really good."

"Uh, tha—" He rolls his eyes as the grin on Toph's face widens, and mutters under his breath, "Very funny."

She snorts, latches onto him just a little tighter, and then: "Shall we?"

.

.

A lot has changed since Zuko visited the south for the first time, and where there only stood a dilapidated village, there are now cities, complete with a compound to train the next Avatar.

He wonders how many years it'll take them to find out who that will be, and promises himself that he'll do everything to keep the peace that they have fought so hard to secure in place till they do.

Life really comes full circle at times, he thinks.

They slowly inch towards civilization, more and more people showing up, hushed whispers going around at the sight of the Fire Lord and the Chief of Police of Republic City.

Zuko is used to this by now, has stopped reading too much into the pointed glares that are thrown at him even now. Forgiveness for his nation has been a long and strenuous path, and it's only fair.

He dispels that thought, focuses on the present, and looks around for a hint of blue robes and a crooked smile.

"If I were a betting woman, I'd say she's in the healing hut," Toph deadpans, and he almost freezes.

He grows increasingly aware of the way his heart picks up pace, an uneasiness settling to the pit of his stomach.

He grimaces, and not for the first time in his life, hopes the woman beside him wasn't so adept in the art of reading heartbeats. "I don't know what you're talking about," he even manages to sound nonchalant but knows there's really no point.

"Sure you don't." Zuko considers collapsing face-first in the tundra. Toph sighs, has the audacity to sound bored: "It's not like it's a secret."

"What?"

"For me. Relax, Sparky. I'm not the gossiping kind."

Zuko tries to sort through the scramble that is his mind, tries to make sense of it, at least some of it, and finally fumbles, "H-how long?"

"Oh, just a little while." He lets out a breath, but then: "About half a century, give or take."

Agni, what had he walked into?

"The healing hut," she reminds him, and he complies.

.

.

Somehow, that is exactly where they find Katara.

Zuko tries not to stare too much, perfectly cognizant of Toph's presence beside him, but that's always been a lost battle with Katara. She looks older, and more... worn out, he thinks, given how the last few months must have been for her.

But she also looks at peace, at home, starkly different to the woman he had seen a few years ago in Caldera City.

"Uncle Zuko!" He is torn from his thoughts by the other waterbender in the room, and her solid embrace.

Katara greets Toph with a hug, as her eyes meet his across the room. He imagines there's a smile in it somewhere.

Pleasantries are exchanged; he asks Kya how the south pole has treated her, and she tells him rather sternly to stop losing sleep over politics and asks him how his daughter and grandchildren are doing.

It's nice to be here, he thinks somewhere at the back of his mind.

"The two of you are very late," Katara says after that with narrowed eyes and hands on her hips.

"Still mothering us, I see, Sugar Queen."

Katara rolls her eyes, huffs, and feigns annoyance, and somewhere in between, looks at him for some semblance of support.

She looks happy, and that's always looked good on her, and so he shrugs it off. She rolls her eyes again, this time at him, and Zuko decides it's all worth it.

Always has been.

"Where is Snoozles?" Toph's voice rings through the little bubble he has somehow walked into.

He feels his face flush, wonders why it feels so easy to get lost in his own world when she is around.

Kya snorts, something that he vaguely registers. "He's with my brothers, and Aunt Suki." Pauses for a while, and then takes Toph's arms into her own. "We should go meet them."

Toph perks up at that immediately. "That's a wonderful idea," she says. And then, with one firm punch against Zuko's arm: "We can leave these two to trade their bad jokes."

Zuko winces, wonders if that was required, but keeps his thoughts to himself. Honestly, he has had a little too much of Toph's bluntness for one day.

He hopes it's only him and his imagination, the way the air seems to change around them. It's not bad or uncomfortable, but somehow more... familiar; intimate.

"Fire Lord Zuko," Katara smiles at him, eyes glinting like always, as the door behind them shuts.

He returns her smile, feels impossibly warm in a land of ice, and asks, "You holding up okay?"

The air changes again, and this time he knows it isn't in his head. The smile falls off Katara's face, lips stretching into a thin line. Her eyes slowly meet his, and she asks, voice nothing more than a whisper, "Why does everyone ask me the same thing?"

His brows furrow on their own. "Katara—"

"My husband was a hundred and sixty-six years old, and he's left me with a legacy to look after. I can't sit and grieve like we're ordinary people."

It's not so much the words, but the way she says it that takes him aback; devoid of emotion and overly practical. It's like staring back in time, looking at himself in the mirror—

"Katara."

It's like she reads his mind: "It's not what you're thinking, Zuko. I'm okay. I really am."

"But—"

"I loved Aang, I did." There's a smile on her lips, bitter but there. Her voice trembles, "Despite everything, we shared a life together. But I know what's next for me. I finally do."

He doesn't say anything, doesn't know if there's anything to be said.

"The next Avatar's amongst us, Zuko. Here, somewhere in the south pole, and now I know... That is the purpose I had been looking for."

He takes in her words, looks into her eyes that shine without a flicker of doubt, and wonders where all her strength comes from.

He ignores the way his heart clenches at his next words: "The world's lucky to have you, Katara."

She startles, but gives him a smile nonetheless, blue eyes brighter than he has seen in a long time.

There's a beat, and then another, and then finally: "We should probably get going." Her lips curve into half a smile. "The aurora awaits."

A thought occurs to him: "I was thinking of that story you'd once told us. About spirits and the aurora."

She pauses for a moment, and he worries he remembers more than he should. But then: "You always seemed to like that one." A smile ghosts up her face, voice coming from somewhere far away, "A path from this world to the next, so tough that one gets lost in the darkness of the night. And so the old spirits decided that they'd shine a torch and guide the new spirits home, giving birth to the first aurora, and all the ones that came after."

There's a lump in Zuko's throat; he swallows, then muses, "A torch."

She beams at him. "It's probably the stories that make it all the more beautiful."

He wills himself to nod, and then: "Do you believe someone would really shine a torch for us?"

Katara looks at him, eyes searching and misty; he feels he is shattering into a thousand pieces, and coalescing into being whole, all at the same time.

She blinks, takes a step closer, and finally: "I'd shine one for you."

.

.

.

A/N: The tale about the southern lights and the spirits is one of many Inuit beliefs regarding the aurora. It (amongst many other things) is where this story kind of started taking shape, with how Katara tells Zuko she would shine a torch for him (in this chapter), and how she actually manifests to help him through to the next world (in the first chapter). 

*sighs, and sighs some more* I just have a lot of feelings about these two.

Thank you for reading, as always!

(I've given up on my work showing up in the tags. 🤷)

@zutaraweek

[thanksjro]

The Transformers, Issues #1-21: A Recap, For Research and Reference  Purposes, Because Otherwise it’s Just Going to Be Confusing

Before we begin, here’s a lightning round style recap on the 21 issues that took place prior to Roberts’ involvement:

Three years after the events of All Hail Megatron, the Autobots are in hiding, trapped on Earth with limited supplies, watching on as humanity attempts to rebuild itself. They don’t offer to help, because that would probably get them shot at- humans are still a little wary of the giant robots that friggin’ destroyed NYC, even if the Autobots are supposed to be the good guys. Sometimes the narration gets a little funny with words.

I know it has multiple meanings, but come on, who talks like this? I’ve always assumed Optimus Prime was the one narrating here, which is… well, IDW Prime has a very self-flagellating and elegant way of speaking. For better or for worse. God help you if Furman is at the wheel.

Of course, because the story needs conflict, Skywatch happens. Skywatch is a human agency whose job is to locate and eliminate all giant space robot threats. Prowl blows cover when the humans make it obvious that the kid gloves are off, ready to kill a Decepticon named Breakdown, and all hell breaks loose, as it is wont to do whenever the Transformers are involved.

Also, everyone looked like this, and it was bad for my eyeballs:

That night-demon is Ironhide. Don’t get too attached to him, he won’t be around for long. But then maybe also do, because he comes back, thanks to the power of comic books and being a giant robot. Do whatever you want, I’m not your mom.

Ironhide’s death leads Optimus to remove himself as leader of the Autobots, and he surrenders himself to Skywatch, because he hasn’t made a heroic sacrifice in the last twenty minutes.

By way of yet more property damage.

Optimus doesn’t name a successor, because he no longer feel fit to choose one. It’s probably actually so there’s plot tension over who the next Prime will be.

Also, Spike Witwicky fucks. He fucks and it’s awful.

With Optimus gone, Hot Rod- Rodimus now, though it’s never established when he decided to change his name or why- gets the hell out of dodge, having had his fill of Earth, and he takes a few friends along with him. Or, at least, he tries to. Decepticons kind of ruin that plan… and then they don’t, because they want in on some of that sweet, sweet getting the hell off of Earth. After all, the war’s over- no point in fighting anymore, right? Of course, Swindle is a part of the group, so take whatever that guy says with a grain of salt. A big grain, like the ones that come out of those fancy sea salt grinders.

Back with the guys who’ve decided to stick around for Optimus’ inevitable return, Bumblebee’s been nominated as the new leader of the Autobots. So much for being the kid appeal character- boy’s got responsibilities now.

Right after democracy happens, Ultra Magnus shows up looking for the boss.

He’s here to look into Ironhide’s death and Optimus’ defection/surrender to the humans. Dude must have booked it to get here, because that was like yesterday.

Any and all interactions between Spike Witwicky and Optimus go pretty much like this:

More people leave Bumblebee’s leadership. Rodimus is hunted down by Ultra Magnus for treason. Swindle channels his inner bisexual and starts dishing out some sweet finger guns.

He has excellent form.

Skywatch uses tech to lock the Autobots into their alt-modes, and starts targeting the defectors, in an attempt to get Optimus to talk to them.

Thundercracker watched TV for a year and a half, then had a midlife crisis, and now he’s following Swindle. Swindle starts asking Rodimus for more troops- er, friends to help them get off of Earth faster, trying to butter him up by calling him Rodimus Prime. I’d love to be able to tell you how that makes him feel, but you try parsing this friggin’ facial expression.

Magnus shows up, tries to arrest everyone, then leaves. Thundercracker has an epiphany about the nature of beauty he’s found in humanity, his soliloquy contrasted with the visual of a baby with a man’s head, and it’s genuinely upsetting to see.

All the faction insignias are photoshopped on, and it’s kind of distracting.

Swindle betrays Rodimus. Quelle surprise. Menasor shows up, and starts throwing robots around. Optimus Prime is released from prison and gets in touch with his inner monster truck. Rodimus steals Magnus’ ship and peaces out.

Over in space, the Decepticon forces have resorted to cannibalism to supplement rations, and Starscream has the Matrix of Leadership on a necklace.

The art switches over to something sort of like Hellboy, and that’s pretty cool. Too bad it only lasts for a single issue.

Skywatch and the Autobots form a tentative alliance. Megatron isn’t actually dead. Two guys in Skywatch throw themselves through a plate glass window for funsies. Spike commits a robot revenge killing. North Korea starts producing energon, and is working with the Decepticons.

Comic books are wild, y’all.

Spike doesn’t respect Bumblebee’s authority, going completely around him to talk to Prime while he’s having some alone time. The US President addresses the public in front of a hyperrealistic American flag.

The Autobots go covert in order to violate the UN sanctions. All the Transformers have vanity plates with their names on them. The Combaticons have a picnic on the lawn and show off their polyglotism. Optimus Prime gets in touch with his inner monster truck. The Autobot Naval forces get involved.

Bumblebee uses his pretty eyes on Thundercracker to try and convince him to help out, seeing as the Autobots don’t have any real air support at present, but it doesn’t work.

They’re very pretty. Thundercracker must have an iron will. Everyone gets weirdly handsome. The phrase “honked off” is used. Optimus Prime gets in touch with his inner monster truck.

I’m like 80% sure that license plate isn’t legal.

China gets involved, and it gets a little weird. Nuclear action is taken.

Cosmos will not be getting a lot more respect around here.

Thundercracker commits acts of terror to destroy the energon plants. Bumblebee addresses the rioting masses, and gets shot with a laser gun for his troubles.

Rodimus makes a pun and gets shot out of the sky. He survives by pulling a Indiana Jones fridge maneuver.

Starscream is turning into Gollum. The Cerebroshells are used with great flourish by Rodimus, who then holds Starscream at gunpoint. He shoots the Matrix.

Wow.

Rodimus attempts to sneak off of the asteroid, only to run into a rebuilt Megatron. Megatron proceeds to shoot him so hard in the chest he’s rocketed into orbit and is missing most of his torso.

The Don Figueroa cover of issue #14 seems to suggest that shooting Optimus Prime in the crotch is a valid plan of attack.

The gun Bumblebee was shot with looks an awful lot like Megatron’s alt-mode. Optimus isn’t mad, just disappointed. Ultra Magnus rejoins the narrative. Not a single human being in the military has a haircut that would pass regulation. The anti-robot cult is introduced. A sign that says “Fuck Robits” is seen in a protest. Soundwave shows up with his awful gremlin children and busts all the captured Decepticons out.

This guy needs to learn to double-knot his laces.

Megatron takes a little vacation in South America.

The gunman who shot Bumblebee was hearing voices from his electronics.

Megatron now comes in grape flavor and the Decepticons have a space bridge.

Megatron has a phone in his hand, and it’s very silly looking. As in, he makes a phone shape with his hand and that just works. I can’t take him seriously. The Megatron guns are actually part of Megatron, and were used to make the gunman shoot Bumblebee. Speaking of Bumblebee, he’s got one doctor keeping him alive at present, and it ain’t Ratchet. It’s some little old man.

Thundercracker comes home to find Starscream has broken in. Starscream has the Decepticon insignia on eight different parts of his body, including the crotchal region.

They show a woman get crushed to death on the news.

Brawn is given a solo mission, finds Starscream, and kicks his ass.

Megatron shows up on Earth. Ultra Magnus transforms to confront him, but he was carrying Bumblebee in his alt-mode and I’m not sure where he went when that happened. Megatron and Magnus have a little banter, then Megatron is shot, where it’s revealed that he’s actually running around in leather chaps and hot pants.

What a fashion icon.

Optimus and his team emerge from the depths of the ocean, having had their plane crash about three issues back. Everyone looks very put-out by the situation.

Brawn helps Thundercracker get to the doctor’s office.

Optimus Prime and Megatron finally have their little reunion. Turns out Megatron dumped all the Autobots with Ultra Magnus inside the city limits, where a bunch of hooligans with Megatron guns live. No word as to where Bumblebee went when Magnus transformed, but he’s here now. Jazz takes Spike and his coworker to save the day.

Megatron is having a moment.

Optimus fucking shoots Soundwave in the face, thus making himself just as bad as Megatron…? Not really how war works, but okay! Crisis averted.

Just kidding, because Jazz shoots a cop so hard he vaporizes. Good work, buddy.

Optimus goes on a solo mission to go kick Megatron’s ass, and jumps out of a plane, punching through the Decepticon’s ceiling. Megatron invites everyone to come out and watch him and Optimus beat the shit out of each other. Cosmos and Jetfire throw a satellite at Megatron from orbit.

An excellent question.

Megatron brings Optimus over to Omega Supreme’s digs and surrenders himself, then is promptly placed in the full-body harness. It’s… it’s something. Megatron reveals that it was Spike who murdered Scrapper the Constructicon like fourteen issues ago. Optimus is all “no waaaay, he’d never do that, I’d trust Spike with my life and also my wallet.”

Optimus immediately puts Prowl on the case though.

Rodimus falls down onto a planet, the Matrix having superglued itself to his chest to keep him from bleeding out. He looked pretty dead the last time we saw him, but he’s doing loads better now. He’s captured and made to be the power source of a large ship, so those who inhabit said ship can get off of the doomed planet they’ve been trapped on for ages. Rodimus ain’t cool with that, so he blows up his restraints with his flame-out ability and runs off. He hides in a cave, only to be attacked by a massive monster. Don’t worry though, because he’s saved by the mysterious Jangle Man.

The Jangle Man is Wheelie, who’s gone full Castaway.

Rodimus gets patched up and then watches Wheelie get high off music.

One of the lackys that brought Rodimus aboard the first ship shows up and attacks, only to be subdued and immediately spills all the beans he has. Rodimus channels his inner anime character.

Rodimus cooks up a plan to get everyone home, and it involves trickery, lies, and the power of music to tame the savage beast. He straps his chest into the power cables and, with only an addled Wheelie to watch over him, does the thing.

Rodimus wakes up to the Matrix having been removed from his chest. Problem: Wheelie piloted them to Cybertron, which is currently a gigantic, uninhabitable mess at the moment. Rodimus tries to get them pointed in the direction of Earth, but that doesn’t work out so hot.

Someone breaks into the ship. It’s Ironhide and Sunstreaker. Rodimus declares himself dead. He’s not, but he might end up that way if he lets the scout that just saw them loitering around outside the ship get back to his boss.

Galvatron comes into the picture, and Rodimus books it. They use their rations- because energon is blood, food, fuel, get well soon card, birthday present, and everything else for the Cybertronians- to power the ship and head back to Earth.

Speaking of Earth, Bumblebee’s not dead. He’s got a cane now. Rodimus shows up, gets some weird Bible-like captioning, and Bumblebee about has a conniption over the Matrix. Rodimus is all ‘whatever, little yellow dude’, and so is everyone else, as Rodders goes up to Optimus, hands him the Matrix, and then is officially named Rodimus by the space pope.

Optimus decides he needs to go to Cybertron to kick Galvatron’s ass, and invites anyone who wants to come with.

Bumblebee’s mad that no one’s listening to him anymore, not that they were really doing that anyway.

Optimus and his team fuck off into space, beginning their journey back to Cybertron.

Prowl gets a few minutes alone with Megatron prior to that, though. He’s well on his way to cracking the case of Scrapper’s murder.

Thundercracker fucks off into the sky, surely heading back to his bachelor pad to catch up on his stories.

And THAT, dear children, is the entirety of The Transformers, up to issue #22. We’re all caught up and ready for what’s to come. 

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 9

It’s not much of a chapter, but it is a chapter. 

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

I hold up the chain of black diamonds to examine it and watch them shimmer in the gaslight. The largest sits at the front, receding to smaller ones to the back. I’ve always found the cost of shiny rocks to be quite vulgar, but for once it felt worth it.

I’d offended Kat a few days ago and she’d been cold with me since. She wasn’t outright hostile, but it was clear what I’d said stuck with her, even after my apology. I hadn’t even mentioned her little art expenditure, thinking that would appease her. 

Hopefully, this little peace offering would finally put it to rest. It’d been something I had planned before all this anyway after her comments about wearing jewels that didn’t belong to her. Gwen had been an excellent source of intel for her preferences, and of course, her preferences were painfully expensive. 

I finally hear her stirring about in her room, the hour long past morning. While I’m not sure where she was all night, I suspect she was out drinking, given that she came in the front door and not a window. I tuck the necklace in a pocket and approach her door, knocking softly. I know she hates it when I don’t. I find myself spending an inordinate amount of time either avoiding offending her or figuring out how I’ve offended her. Ironic since this situation was arranged to further my influence over her. I suppose I’m only really delaying the inevitable. One day she’ll figure out that she doesn’t need me to survive, especially once she controls the Guild.

“Are you actually knocking?” She sounds half asleep still. 

I take her words as permission and enter, finding her seated at her dressing table, fighting to get a brush through the tangled waves of her hair. “You’ve requested it in the past.” 

“Since when do you ever listen to anything I say?” Of course, we have a very public event tonight and she’s trying to start a fight, definitely still indignant at me. 

“Good morning to you too Kitten.” I lean down and kiss her on the cheek, I’m not taking the bait. Her expression softens and for the moment there’s peace between us. “I have something for you, for tonight. Close your eyes.” 

She mocks annoyance but does as I ask. I withdraw the chain and clasp it around her neck. “Take a look.” I whisper in her ear and then nip it lightly. 

Her eyes get wide as soon as she opens them and her hand reaches up to lightly caress the stones settled around her neck. “It’s incredible. You can’t be serious.” There’s almost a reverence to her voice. 

“Of course I am.” I reach out and let my hand travel through her silken tresses. “You should have something of your own.”

She leans back against me, finally, I believe she is no longer cross with me. I wrap my arms around her, her head resting in the crook of my left elbow, my arm casting its glow against her pale skin. I wonder how she’s never been unnerved by it, treating it as normal. “You spoil me.” 

“Perhaps I should try it more often.” The familiar urges of having her so close start stirring. I contemplate throwing her on the bed and stripping her down to nothing but that necklace. But no, I have some last minute matters to attend to before tonight. I kiss the top of her head. “Until later, Kitten.” 

She makes a small noise of protest as I pull away, making me aware her thoughts had traveled the same path as mine. “Stay.” She purrs at me, taking my hand. 

“Busy.” I squeeze her hand and let go. 

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes but blows me a kiss on my way out.

Several hours and one clandestine meeting later I find myself waiting for her appearance so we can begin this absurdly long evening. I’ve only told her half the truth about why she’s coming with tonight. Having her company is, of course, a welcome addition to the tedium of official functions but there’s something I wish to accomplish tonight. I’m not ignorant to what’s said about her. I know the little nickname that’s trotted out behind my back, Grand Whore of Noxus. Tonight I want them to see her with me, to bow and scrape a little bit when she’s around. They can’t disrespect her in my presence without disrespecting me. Which is really the point, if they do it at all, even behind my back, it reflects on me. 

At the moment though, I’m reconsidering the whole plan since she’s taking an eternity to be ready. I pace the floor of the Hall, listening to my steps echoing off the walls, patience wearing thin. I finally hear her descending the stairs, Gwen trailing close behind her. I snap my head in her direction. “Fin..” The word dies in my throat. 

The scarlet lace clings to every one of her flawless curves, the small crystals sewn into it create a soft glow around her. The necklace is settled around a dramatic high collar, matching perfectly with the tiara set on her pinned-up hair. I involuntarily suck in a breath, the wait was admittedly worth it. 

She reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops before me. “Well, what do you think?” She turns around, letting me appreciate every angle. 

“You look like you’re somehow wearing half my fortune.” Her expressions falls, I didn’t think she’d take the comment seriously. I hurry to smooth it over before she responds. “I’m only teasing. You look lovely Kat.” She always did though, I wonder if she ever truly realized it. “But tell me how many knives have you managed to hide in there?”

Now she smiles so genuinely. When was the last time she smiled at me like that? ‘Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Gwen wraps her cloak around her shoulders carefully avoiding her hair. I offer her my arm. “Let’s enjoy making everyone talk tonight.” 

Throngs of people from every station and background fill the Temple of the Sun. It feels as though every one of them is staring at us as we make our way toward the balcony that overlooks the temple proper. Every few feet we’re stopped to engage in meaningless pleasantries, whispering consuming the crowd in our wake. We’re successfully causing a scandal, the Grand General and his House pariah mistress. “You’ll crack a molar if you keep your jaw clenched like that all night.” 

“I’m trying to keep smiling. This is the best I can do at being congenial.” She hisses.

I pull her close, give her one quick kiss. “Just relax.” I forgot how much she dislikes crowds. 

Argos parts through the mass to stand by my side. “Greetings, Grand General, Sir.” 

The new rank insignia on display seems to have added a bit of pride to his bearing. “Argos”, I nod. I do owe Kat for that, her words pushed Darius into his part of that promotion, whether either of them knows that or not. Head of Strategic Defense would sound boring to those more interested in the outright “glory” of conquest, but Argos is smart enough to realize it puts him in a position over a rather significant force. And with his established loyalty, I tighten my grasp over the most central parts of the Empire. Too bad for his extremely incompetent predecessor, I heard they had their throat slit in their own home. 

“Will you be joining the festivities later?” He fumbles around for small talk, a true military man adrift in the sea of ceremony and formality.

“For as long as I can tolerate it. It is unfortunately expected of me.” Lady Montrose, a relic of another era, is hosting and nearly the whole of Noxian society will attend. I’ve got plans to be laid, so at least it will serve some purpose. I can’t stomach these vainglorious, ostentatious displays. “I’ll look for you there.” He starts to speak, but another voice draws my attention away. 

“Do you enjoy spreading your legs every night for your father’s murderer?” Of course, she’s here. I whirl around, leaving Argos mid-word, and storm through those pressed in around me to stand behind Kat, putting my hands on her shoulders.

“Soreana, it’s been a while.” Her eyes get even more narrow, leaving her whole pinched expression. I let my hands travel to Kat’s waist and pull her a step closer to me. 

“Good evening, Grand General.” Pure hatred flows through her words. Kat is pointedly looking staring at the ground, her mood from earlier completely evaporated. 

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for that night at your home. It was good of you to reintroduce Katarina and I, much has come from it.” 

Kat laughs quietly, and finally looks up. “You make an excellent point.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “We are grateful.” 

Soreana looks like a fish out of water, gasping for air. “We should head inside.” I slide my hand to the small of Kat’s back and guide her forward, lobbing one last parting shot behind me. “Perhaps this new year will see your husband returned to you.” She sounds like she’s choking as we walk away. Good, I always hated Soreana.

“Bit much, don’t you think?” She lets me lead her toward the pew at the front of the balcony. From here those of rank look down on the teeming masses below. 

“No, I heard what she said and I put her in her place.” I put my hand over hers and feel her run her nails along my palm. 

“It had truth to it.” She’s starting to dwell on it. 

I lean over and whisper in her ear. “Nonsense, every night would be a lot to ask of a man with my responsibilities.” I kiss her temple softly. 

“Honestly.” She slaps playfully at my shoulder and I believe she is sufficiently distracted. I hear enough murmuring to know we’re being talked about again, I find that deeply satisfying. 

“They let anyone sit up here these days.” Darius lowers his considerable form into the seat next to Kat. 

“Well, they did let you in.” She’s all smiles for him I note. 

“I kinda wish they hadn’t. The burdens of leadership I suppose.” 

“Poor DarDar, he might get bored.” It’s always like this between them, astoundingly easy. I’ve never seen them fail to get along, even when Kat is in one of her moods. Tonight it grates on me as he leans in and whispers something that has her choking back a laugh. 

Thankfully their banter is interrupted as the ceremony begins and the Priest steps forward. I note the seat next to me where the third of the Trifarix should sit is empty. Just as well, it keeps me from having to deal with LeBlanc in addition to everything else. 

It’s as though she’s summoned by that thought, her veiled figure practically floating as she approaches. She settles in, too close for comfort. “Well, someone brought their little pet with.” Her voice is so low only I can hear it. I shoot her a look and turn back to the ceremony, a sacrificial killing of the old year to bring forth the new. A deserter stands in for the old year, looking to atone for his cowardice by giving his life to satisfy the gods. It’d be meaningful if I believed in gods. 

Kat has turned her attention back to Darius, gesturing and whispering furiously. “What? I admire you, keeping up with that young little thing.” 

I wonder if the demon could strangle the immortal life out of her. “Are you jealous?”

“And if I was?” Now there’s almost a playfulness to her tone. 

Before I can answer I feel Kat’s arm hook through my mine. She carefully lays her head on my shoulder, not disturbing her pinned-up hair. I catch her hand and squeeze it a bit. She smiles up at me before exaggeratedly yawning.”Behave.” I scold and she pouts, her nails again running along my palm. Perhaps the crowd is getting to her, I should have considered that possibility. 

The ceremony is brief enough at least, Noxians don’t tend to prattle on to the gods, even when they do believe in them. Off to the self-indulgence of the nobility and, if fortune smiles, home before long. As we stand Kat turns again to Darius, and like a coiled predator waiting to strike, LeBlanc leans in to whisper to me. “You’ve been so...occupied recently, we haven’t truly spoken in ages. We should remedy that.” And with that she vanishes into the crowd, her invitation lingering behind her as we begin to leave. 

It is tempting. Leblanc can be charming when she wants something. And she most definitely wants something. Though what it is this time, I’m not sure. Perhaps she just needs to reassure herself my attention is hers when she wants it. Still, it’s always been a benefit when she gets what a little of what she wants. It keeps her docile to think she’s winning. 

“Jericho.” There’s a sharp edge of irritation to Kat’s voice.

“Yes?” She turns back to glare at me, halting the crowd a bit around her. 

“Nevermind.” She turns and starts walking away. I try to hurry after her without appearing to and catching up, I take her hand. 

There’s a moment where I feel her almost pull away. “Apologies, I was distracted.” She doesn’t say anything, but she leaves her hand in mine. It seems everything tonight must be difficult.

The crowd parts, some still daring to stare and take in the spectacle or try to whisper covertly to their companions. I stop suddenly and lean down to kiss her deeply, hands around her hips, fueling the fire. 

I’d almost say she was blushing slightly as we pulled apart. “You’re making quite a scene.” 

“That was entirely my intention, my dear.” I take her hand and continue our way out, leaving the masses gawking behind us. 

[lovemesomesurveys]

do you have a lot of barbecues during the summer? My dad used to all the time when I was a kid, but he’s not into it anymore for some reason. My fam just uses this little kitchen Cuisinart Griddler and a cast iron skillet for stuff like burgers and steaks. Oh, and my dad has a hot dog broiler/roller thing lol.  do you plan on going to the movies soon? to see what? My mom and I want to see It Chapter 2 again. do you tie your shoes or just tuck in the laces? I tie them. What is one present you got for your last birthday? A Nintendo Switch with a couple games and a case, some Adidas clothes/shoes/socks/fanny pack/mini backpack, and a weekend getaway.  What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I really don’t remember. 

Do you remember losing your first tooth? Yeah. I was eating an apple, ha. In the summer would u rather have the windows down or the AC on in the car? AC for sure. Having the windows down does nothing for me cause the air blowing in is just hot air. are you itchy anywhere right now? No. Have you ever thrown anything at a moving car? Uh, no. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I go through spurts where I’m obsessed with The Sims. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? Uhh. do you believe in “the one”? I actually thought I found a potential “one” in Ty. Or at least something serious and long-term. Silly me.  Do you like maple cookies? I’ve never had one, but I’ve seen them and they look/sound delicious. I love maple donuts, so I imagine I’d love a maple cookie. Have you ever volunteered anywhere? where? Yeah, various places. are you afraid to pop a balloon? I do get a little nervous in anticipation of the POP! Name one person you’d like to see this month. I’ll be seeing one of my aunts that I’m close to soon. How high do you put the volume while using headphones? When listening to ASMR I turn it up all the way, but something else maybe half way or so. When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don’t know. What would be the worst possible way to be woken up? I don’t enjoy being woken up ever so if someone does they better have a good reason and some coffee, ha. which was better: lion king 1 or lion king 2? Lion King 1. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? No. When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Not since I was a kid. have you ever had a pet rock? No. Do you believe in marriage? I just can’t see myself ever getting married. What word do you say way too much? I know what phrase I say too much, “I don’t know.” What do you usually buy when you go to the corner store? Like a Quick Mar/gas station/liquor store type store? I just get a drink, like a Starbucks Doubleshot. I used to get chips all the time, too. are you currently cold? No. It actually feels nice right now, which is shocking. It looks overcast out right now and it’s only 72 F, which is a big drop in temp for us Californians who have been experiencing upper 90s and triple digit temps.  do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? Yes. what is a creative way to paint your nails? I wouldn’t know, I suck at painting them just the basic way. I tried dabbling in nail art stuff a few years ago, but I sucked. does your computer have built in speakers or do you have some plugged in? They’re built in. bubbles or sidewalk chalk? I liked playing with chalk as a kid. What do you use to tell time when your gone out somewhere? My phone. what colour is your alarm clock? I use my phone, which is coral. what brand is your TV? Insignia.  are you proud of your body? Nooope. Watermelon or Cherries? Watermelon. What is your all time favourite song? I have too many, I couldn’t pick just one. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? On TV shows and movies. Eric Northman, playing by Alexander Skarsgard, for example. That character first introduced me to Alex. What is the band you’ve listened to most lately? I don’t think there’s been one in particular. how much effort do you put into how you look? Not much at all. :/ Favourite brand of cookies? Oreos and Keeblers. what would you do if you found out your mother had killed someone? Wowwwww. That would be.....wow. I don’t even know. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? Lucille Ball. Do you pay for your own things? Some things, not everything.  Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? Yes. Do you think the world is getting worse every year? I think we’re just more aware. Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? Yes, a few. Have you ever gone a day without eating? Yeah. I’ve gone days. How do YOU believe the world & universe started? I believe in God and that He created the world and everything in it. What was the topic of the last essay you wrote? I don’t remember. That was almost 5 years ago. how old were you when you discovered what sex was? I remember making my Barbies do what I thought sex was haha.  Do you wish you had smaller feet? No, they’re already pretty small. Have you ever stuck gum under a desk/chair? EW NO. I hate when people do that, it’s SO disgusting. Throw it away it’s really not that hard. When shopping at a grocery store, do you return your cart or just leave it? I don’t use a cart. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? They don’t know I’ve smoked weed a few times. Doesn’t sound like a big deal to most, but I don’t know I just haven’t told them.  Who is the best cook in your house? My parents and brother are all good cooks. They each have their specialties.  When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Yeah. Do you have a ‘prized possession’? My laptop. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I’ve felt that way in some friendships. How many dryer sheets do you put in a load of laundry? I don’t do the laundry. Recommend a good book to me. I don’t know what you like. What would you consider unforgivable? Someone murdering someone I love.  When you hear someone talking about lice, does your head start itching? Haha yeah. What would be a clever name for a giraffe? Lol I named my giraffe stuffed animals with G names. Like my 4ft giraffe I have is named Gigi, like GG for “giant giraffe.” lol. She’s giant in comparison to the other stuffed animals.  Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? No. What’s something you like to do while you’re drunk? I don’t drink anymore. Do you think you deserve more than what you have? I don’t think I deserve anything. Would you rather give your food to a homeless shelter or money to charity? Why not both. Kiss on the neck or kiss on the cheek? Depends who the kiss is coming from.  True or False: you this read wrong True. Don’t you hate when you hit your tooth on your cup trying to get a drink? Yes, or a utensil. I do that forks a lot for some reason. Which store would you choose to max out a credit card? I don’t want to max out any credit cards. I gotta pay it back, you know. Who has the loudest mouth in your house? My dog? lol. Can you understand shakespear english? Kinda, but I didn’t really enjoy Shakespeare, so I didn’t put a lot of effort into it. Do you usually buy or make your Halloween costumes? I’ve done both. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Not anymore, really. I like getting takeout to just eat at home. What was your least favorite year of your life so far? These past few years. What is the most ridiculous law you ever heard about? Hmm. I’ve read articles in the past about weird laws each state has, but I can’t think of an example right now. Is your name common? Yeah.  If you could have any pet in the world, illegal or not, what would you get? I love having a dog. Do you like fried bologna? I’ve never had it fried, but I love bologna sandwiches.  How do you act around people you dislike? I’d act civil, but I would probably be short and just keep my distance, not interacting unless I needed to. Do you like decorating rooms or would you rather have someone else do it? Someone else. I’m not creative enough. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I’d love to go. have you spent money on a game online? Yeah. I’ve bought a few game apps and Sims games. Are you good at making small talk? Nopeee. Has someone ever taken something from you that you could never replace? Yes.  Are you a fan of tattoos? I mean, sure. Are you bikini ready? I don’t wear bikinis.  What do you dislike the most about being the gender that you are? Menstrual cycles were a bitch, but I don’t get them anymore.

[bunnielyse-blog1]

Sneak a Peek CHAPTER 5

Sneak a Peek: Sometimes you have to break the rules

*Author’s note* *Waves arms* I’m here! I’m here!

Sorry it’s been so long since I updated!  This is my longest chapter yet (just at 10 pages!) so I hope you don’t mind the wait!

I hope you enjoy!

Xoxo, Bunnie

Chapter 5

The way Adrien had been scoping his fellow classmates was almost comical.  He was sure he looked crazy and paranoid.  

That morning before classes he loitered in the locker room and carefully watched his classmates file in, meet up with their friends, and head to their respective classes. He took careful note of every girl that came in.  He watched not only his classmates, but girls from other classes and grades as well. So far he had counted nearly fifty girls that were all wearing those simple pink ballet flats by Gabriel.  

This wasn’t going to be easy.

Sure, he knew he could analyze their hairstyle, eye color, or body type, but if his own Miraculous transformation altered his appearance, he couldn’t rule out the possibility that hers would be changed in some way too.  He didn’t want to take any chances by eliminating girls he thought may not fit simply because they didn’t look the part.  Furthermore, a new beauty crazy had taken hold of Parisian teenagers, inspired by Ladybug herself.  It wasn’t unusual to find someone sporting a pigtail hairstyle or wearing red and black polka dot leggings.  Some even went so far as to wear blue contact lenses.  

Similarly, a new health craze called Miraculously Fit had swept the city, helping people to stay healthy through sports like martial arts and gymnastics. Adrien found this to be especially vexing.  Now, most teenagers would openly flaunt their “moves”, which were exact copies of moves him and Ladybug had used against villains.

Instead of finding a girl who should have stood out from everyone else, he was finding hundreds of facsimiles.

Even now, as he sat against a courtyard wall with Nino, Alya, and Marinette during their free period, he watched as a couple of younger students practiced their martial arts, all flaunting the latest in Ladybug fashion.  They were loud and distracting as they laughed and posed for selfies, mimicking his Lady.

He contemplated other methods in which to distinguish copycats from the real Ladybug. If he couldn’t rely on looks, physique, or talent then he’d have to take a deeper look into what made Ladybug, Ladybug.

She was kind, funny, quick on her feet, dedicated, fearless, unrelenting, and full of determination.  She never gave up and she always spoke her mind.  Most of all, she was forgiving.  At times, Adrien had found himself angry or disappointed in the people who had been akumatized, but not her.  She put herself on their level and comforted them when they were confused and most needed it.

She was selfless.

She was perfect.

‘Where am I going to find someone like that?’ he thought, perplexed. 

“I know!”

Adrien was shocked out of his thoughts by Alya’s loud squeal.  He looked at his friends, instinctively sculpting his mouth into a smile to try and hide that he hadn’t been paying attention.

“I cannot believe that Jagged Stone is creating his own clothing line!” Alya continued.  Her phone was in her hand and her fingers flew over the screen as she browsed through the online store, shoving her phone into Nino and Marinette’s faces whenever she found a particularly exciting item.

“Oh,” Adrien said thoughtfully. “I remember hearing about this awhile ago.  My father’s company tried to make a contract with Jagged to design the clothing, but Jagged turned him down.”

Marinette looked surprised. “Oh really?  But Gabriel Fashion is one of the biggest companies in Paris!”

Adrien shrugged and flashed a small smile. “I don’t know the details,” he said unenthusiastically. “Jagged probably didn’t want to get caught up with someone as uptight as my father.”

“I don’t blame him!” Nino said loudly, balling his hands into fists. “No offense, dude, but your dad has a huge stick up his a-”

“Anyway!” Alya interrupted.  Nino and Adrien laughed.  “Aren’t you excited, Marinette?”

“Y-yeah!” Marinette mumbled, a bit flustered. “It’s way cool, I just wish I could afford it.”

Alya lifted a hand as if to brush Marinette’s comments out of the air. “What about when you work at the bakery?”

Marinette laughed, “It’s not a big deal.  I’ll just make my own Jagged Stone clothes.  It won’t be that hard; he’s all about edginess, spikes, rips-”

Nino’s eyes widened, “Really, Marinette?  You make it sound like creating clothing from scratch is easy.”

Alya hugged her friend with pride.  “Are you kidding, Nino?  Everything Marinette wears is something she made!  Right, girl?”

Marinette giggled and rubbed her arm in embarrased pride. “Yeah, totally.  All my parent’s money goes into the bakery, so instead of buying clothes, I just make them.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows in surprise.  He knew Marinette designed fashion and had made a few pieces in the past, but he thought it was just a hobby.  He had no idea that she was an actual, experienced, seamstress.

Without warning, he realized he felt some disappointment.  He knew that his Lady had been wearing Gabriel ballet flats; the butterfly insignia had been unmistakable through the pool of whipped cream. If Marinette wore clothing only she made, then it just further proved that his initial belief that she was Ladybug was wrong.

‘I don’t get it,’ he thought.

He had never looked at Marinette in the same way he looked at Ladybug, so why did he feel disappointment course through him?  Was he disappointed that Marinette couldn’t be her?  Was it just because he had been close to finding out her identity? Was it because she had potentially been by his side all along?  

Or was it something more; was he wrong about his feelings?  In the last few weeks since he mistakenly assumed she was Ladybug, Marinette had crept into his thoughts.  Even though he had crumpled up that theory and thrown it in the proverbial trash, thoughts of his raven-haired friend ensnared his brain.  She had certainly entered his thoughts, but had she snuck into his heart?

“What about your shoes?” he asked suddenly.

Marinette’s head swiveled quickly to look at him. “W-what?” she asked timidly.

He saw his father’s logo on her shoes. “Aren’t your shoes Gabriel brand?  They have the butterfly.”

“O-oh!” Marinette said with a nervous laugh.  “Y-yeah!  I really love your dad. Father! I love your father! I mean! I love Gabriel. The brand!”

“What she means is,” Alya interrupted. “Those shoes are her pride and joy.  That’s why she wears them all the time.”

‘In other words, she didn’t make those…’

“R-right!” Marinette shouted.  She took a deep breath, as if recognizing that her voice had gone up a decibel. “I really look up to Gabriel as a fashion designer and so my parents got me these shoes for my birthday when I entered collège.”

“Y’know,” Alya said thoughtfully, looking at Marinette’s shoes.  “Yours do look different than the ones I’ve seen.  Were they special edition or something?”

Adrien followed her gaze and noticed that tiny rhinestones adorned the toe and heel of each shoe.  He squinted in thought, trying to remember if his Lady’s had the same details, but the whipped cream must have covered such delicate designs.

He realized he still had his eyes trained on her shoes and hurriedly looked up, directly into Marinette’s curious blue ones.  He was mildly embarrassed to see that she had caught him staring.

“Yeah,” he added to cover his discomfort. “I don’t recall seeing any designs with these stones.”

Marinette quickly shook her head and smiled. “No, I put these on myself!”

“Really?” Nino asked in surprise, his mouth full of cheeseburger. “All of those? That had to have taken forever!”

“No, not really!” Marinette smiled. “Even though they’re Gabriel brand, I felt like I still needed to make them my own, you know?  So my mom and I glued them on with fabric glue.”

Alya and Nino continued to eat their lunch and talk about the Jagged Stone clothing line. They each suggested that Marinette should create something for them, to which she eagerly agreed.

“Can you put some rhinestones on mine too?” Alya asked excitedly.  She was already flipping through her phone for some edgy fashion inspiration.

Adrien couldn’t help but notice how Marinette’s face lit up and felt the unmistakable tingling of his heartstrings; a sensation that he only ever felt around Ladybug.  

Maybe his feelings had begun to change.

“Sure!” she said enthusiastically. “But I’ll have to find a new type of glue to use.” She ran her fingers along the stones on her shoes. “Some of mine have fallen off, so I want to make sure yours stay on.”

Alya squealed again, hugging her friend. “Girl, I am so excited!  You’re the best!”

Adrien smiled at his friends, his eyes hovering on Marinette a little longer than usual.  Nino was a welcome distraction from his malstrom of thoughts - now even more confused than before - as they discussed Jagged Stone’s clothing and plans for the weekend.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind to Adrien, thanks to his muddled thoughts of Marinette and Ladybug. He couldn’t get his friend out of his mind.  As if a seed had been planted and was taking root, he began connecting what he knew about Marinette and what he knew about his Lady. The puzzle pieces were fitting together to form a bigger picture of who his Lady might really be and his imagination was running wild.  

He imagined himself as Chat Noir fighting alongside Ladybug.  

Then he was Chat Noir flying high across the city with Marinette in his arms.  

Him and Marinette sunbathing on a beach in the south.

Sipping coffee together.

Cuddling next to a fire.

Saving their city.

Smiling.

Laughing.

“It has to be her, Plagg.” Adrien said quietly as he watched the sun begin to set.

Plagg twitched his whiskers, “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, but smirked at his friend in semi-annoyance.  “Don’t you know how to say anything else?”

“Can’t you do anything else besides roll your eyes?” Plagg shot back with a smug flick of his tail.

Adrien grimaced inwardly when he realized he was about to roll his eyes.  “Touché.”

“Well, Lover Boy,” Plagg teased as he floated over to Adrien and leaned against the window pane.  “Do you want to go clear your mind, or what?”

“You read my mind,” he smiled. “Plagg, claws out!”

Soon they were flying through the air and Chat’s smile grew into a huge, toothy grin as the wind pleasantly whipped his hair off his forehead.

He ran across rooftops and vaulted from building to building.  He enjoyed hearing gasps from the Parisians as he passed and waved when they held up their phones for a quick picture.

The sun was nearly set as he settled onto a sloping rooftop near Marinette’s balcony.

He hadn’t planned on visiting her when he first set out, but the words, ‘What if…’ buzzed around his consciousness like an annoying fly.

What if…

He was right?

What if…

He talked to her as Chat Noir?            Would she act differently?                        Would she give herself away?

What if…

There was was an Akuma attack tonight?            He could watch her as she heard the news.                        He would see her Kwami.                                    He would see her transformation.

‘What if…’

Those thoughts were still fluttering around his subconscious as he debated whether or not to make the jump to her balcony.

His mind was made up for him, however, when he heard Alya’s familiar shrill float up from the open balcony door.  Chat vaulted onto one of the patisserie’s many chimneys - careful to land silently - so as to listen to their conversation with ease.

“Girl!” Alya gasped. “He asked you what?  How long have you even been talking to him?”

Chat’s ears perked up even further. ‘Him? Him who?’

Marinette giggled and Chat recognized that she sounded a little uncomfortable. “Since the music festival.”

There was a long whistle - ‘Probably from Alya,’ he thought - followed by a short silence.

“How’d he even get your number?” Alya asked.

“I think Juleka gave it to him.”

Silence again.

“Oh stop, Alya!” Marinette sounded annoyed, a tone Chat had rarely heard from her, except when she spoke with Chloe.

“What?” Alya asked defensively.

“I just think you’re getting a little too protective.”

“Bu-”

“I mean, thank you for caring and making sure I’m okay-”

“Girl-”

“But you don’t have to be my caretaker either.”

Marinette had said everything in a rush and let out a long sigh after she finished. Chat assumed she had been holding that in for a while.  It must have taken a lot of courage for her to say that to her friend.  He smiled slightly at the thought.

Alya sighed and Chat could imagine she was her rubbing her eyes. “Marinette, I know you don’t need me to fight your battles.  But do you even really know this guy?  I mean, he’s like what, three years older than us?  Isn’t that a little weird?”

“Two years,” Marinette corrected.

‘Two years?’ Chat thought, his jealousy growing.  That practically made this guy an adult.  What’s an adult doing chatting up a teenager?

“It’s not weird,” Marinette added. “He’s still in school.  And he’s a nice guy!  It’s not like he’s some weirdo off the street.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Alya acquiesced.  “I mean, if he’s Juleka’s brother, he can’t be that bad.”

“Thank you!” Marinette said happily.

‘Luka?’ Chat thought back to that day on Juleka’s boat and the music festival.  Since the festival, him and Luka had met up occasionally to play keyboard and guitar.  Luka was a talented musician and Adrien found that it was easy to keep up with him as they improvised songs.  

What was he doing talking to Marinette?

“Hey!” Marinette said suddenly. “I thought you were all for me chasing after Luka?”

Her friend scoffed. “I’m all for you chasing after someone else!”

Chat’s eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Someone else?’

Marinette’s accompanying sigh was full of frustration and unhappiness. “That’ll never happen.”

“Adrien’s blind, Marinette.”

Chat shot up at full attention.  He had to physically slap a hand to his mouth to muffle the yelp that escaped his lips.

“You’ll have to make the first move on him, girl,” she continued.

Marinette squealed in embarrassment. “I can’t!” she whined.

Alya was speaking in between her laughter, but it sounded like another language to Chat’s shocked mind.  Until Marinette began speaking again and his heart felt like it was on a rollercoaster.

“No, Alya,” she said soberly. “I can’t. I’m trying to move on.”

“I don’t believe you!” Alya said sarcastically. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been in love with that boy.”

‘In love…?’ Chat’s heart was beating out of his chest.  Marinette loves him?  Was that why she was always so ditsy and flustered around him?  It wasn’t because he was a celebrity?  It was because she had a crush on him?  

He had been wrong about her this entire time and he felt terrible.  He was so used to being gawked at and asked for autographs and selfies from equally flustered and ditsy fans, that he had immediately placed her in the “crazed fan” category.

But she had never asked for his autograph.

All of their selfies were with their friends and not for fansites.

He felt a large weight rest in his gut as the guilt settled in.  He had always put her at arm’s length all because he had jumped to conclusions and had the wrong impression of her.  He had never given her a chance to get to know her outside of class or social gatherings.  He lamented his distance from her as realization hit him that she truly cared about him as a friend.  She was always kind to him, even giving him her unique lucky bracelet.  She was always encouraging in his pursuits, like the music video.  She was funny and quick witted and he admired how often she would jump in to defend a classmate against Chloe.

He just wished she was comfortable around him, crush or no crush.  He had begun to appreciate her true personality, but was quickly disappointed when she shied away from him.

He just wanted her to treat him like she treated Alya.

To talk to him and joke with him.

In his recent memory, the only time Marinette talked to him without fumbling over her words was when he visited her as Chat Noir.  He considered for a minute that maybe he should continue to visit her in his disguise, but he quickly shook the thought out of his head.

‘No,’ he thought. ‘If I want to get the real Marinette, I need to be the real Adrien.’

Sitting on the rooftop, the warm breeze tickling the hair at the nape of his neck, Chat finally accepted his feelings for Marinette.  They didn’t measure up to his feelings toward Ladybug, but he couldn’t ignore the warm feeling in his heart either.  He didn’t necessarily reciprocate her feelings of love, but he couldn’t deny the crush he was forming for her.

A small smile began to grow on his lips as he made up his mind to get to know the real Marinette.  He was determined to make her comfortable around him, enough so that her Adrien-induced stutter would stop and they could speak freely.  He found that he wanted to know more about her.

He hadn’t noticed that the girl’s voices had faded and was jolted back to reality when he heard the bakery’s front door open and close.  He carefully crawled along the roof so he could peek down to the street below.  Alya and Marinette were standing just beyond the entrance to her home, saying their goodbyes.

“Marinette, I know Adrien’s a sensitive topic and I’m sorry I brought it up.”  Alya hugged her friend and Marinette nodded in understanding.  “I think a date with Luka sounds great.  How about we all go.  Like a double date!”

Marinette clapped her hands together and jumped a little. “That’s a great idea! Are you sure?  I mean, would Nino mind?”

Alya waved her off. “Not at all!  It’ll be fun. Granted, he’ll probably be just as confused as me that you’re getting over Adrien-”

‘Getting… over?’

“But he likes Luka, musician to musician.  So it’ll be fun!”

Marinette smiled and hugged her friend again.  “Thanks so much!  You’re the best!”

The two friends separated and Chat heard Alya call out, “Keep me posted!” before she disappeared around the corner and Marinette made her way back inside.

Chat sat in mild shock.  It seemed too ironic that the moment he realized his feelings for her, the moment he decided to gain the courage to possibly date her, she was over him and dating someone else.

First Ladybug turns him down on the roof and now Marinette decides he’s not worth chasing after.

He couldn’t win.

‘What does Luka have that I don’t have?’ he thought in frustration.  But his own argument was quickly snuffed when he remembered that he could only blame himself.  She had been smitten with him for over two years, but his disregard for her feelings had pushed her away.

Feeling dejected and full of self-loathing, along with a large dose of Luka-aimed jealousy, Chat stood to his full height and vaulted into the night and away from bakery’s aroma.

To be continued…

*Endnote*

Ah!! I hope you liked it!!!

I was going to continue this chapter, but I think it just makes more sense to continue into a new chapter.

Adrinette & MariChat was SO CLOSE!!!!!!  (I ship MariChat hard, btw) >.>

Anyway, I really mixed up my writing style in this chapter, but I hope you guys liked it. I felt like Adrien’s thoughts were so all over the place and jumping from one thing to another that I began writing his thoughts in an unstructured/structured/poetic form.  Sort of like how I think all of our thoughts are stream of consciousness; one thought comes from another thought that comes from another thought and so on.

What do you think?

Next up:

Possibly the last chapter!  Plagg continues to not-so-helpfully help Adrien find Ladybug’s true identity. Amidst the confusion of teenage love and moonlighting as one of Paris’s superheros, Adrien is brought back to reality when someone from his past resurfaces

Bunnie’s Reviewer, Follower, and Subscription Shoutouts:

Fanfiction: LycoRogue, marauderluverz, Tiger Priestess, Demi clayton (guest), Weebo23, StarryNight101, Edelisle, DANIELA123, jon4576, archer71, KassandraConK, digifreak15, xXtomboysRuleXx, LustLets, WhiteTigerMisty, ReiGriffins, littledoe1369, Narakat57, onetkdgirl, darkroxas92, Zlotowlosa, Joe12321, BeccaArenas, Jake Day-Rea, Coed-Mor Draig, & TinyFox2

Ao3: Hilzabub, Draxynnic, WhimsiKitty, & Msmiley4

Thank you to all who left Kudos and Favorites!  All of you give me life!!!

Please, don’t forget to review! I’d love to hear what you think; the good, bad, and ugly!  

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Xoxo, Bunnie

P.S. I’m on Fanfiction, Ao3, & Tumblr! (same username: BunniElyse)

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | Q&A with Martin Ontiveros (PDX)

The art wizardry of Portland based Martin Ontiveros has appeared in various galleries, albums, posters and has even been transformed into diabolical toys and figurines. Ontiveros’s graphic ink and brush style is meticulous and bold, transforming his horned and demonic creations into fun and bad-ass pop occultism. We’re excited to chat with this ink sorcerer in our latest Art School where we talk about technique, studio days, and what is coming up for him the rest of this year. 

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself?   Hello, I’m Martin Ontiveros, also known as Martinheadrocks, illustrator and wizard. “Marty” to my closest friends and family. I live in Portland Oregon, I’m left-handed/ambidexterous and I have a large ginger cat/familiar named Zeus. Nice to meet you.

How do you describe your art to folks who have never seen it before? Pop-occultism? Creature Chic? What you might find inside an ancient tomb or temple from a previously unknown civilization.

Who were some of your early artistic influences that really inspired you to draw? It started with Star Wars in 1977, and Mad Magazine, especially the work of Jack Davis. Childrens book art by Jim Flora. Books and movies about UFOs, cryptids, phenomena, ghosts and black magic when I was a kid. Later it was Heavy Metal Magazine and the underground artists of the 60s and 70s, S. Clay Wilson, Greg Irons, Spain, etc. 80’s punk and metal pioneer artists like Mad Mark Rude and Pushead. Derek Riggs and his Iron Maiden covers. 

Lots of rock album art. Fantasy/conceptual artists like Mike Ploog, Boris Vallejo, Frazetta, Richard Corben. That was all the stuff that built up the desire, but what really got me drawing were the indie comics of the 80s with people like Marc Hansen, Matt Wagner, the Pander Bros, David Boswell, Dori Seda, Mary Fleener. I really really wanted to make comics by the time I was 17-18. I’ve since discovered it’s not for me. Art of the Ancient World, Mesopotamian and Mesoamerican in particular. There’s more to this list, I’m an old man now and have seen a lot, but we don’t have all day.

What’s a day like in the studio for you? And take us through your artist process –from start to finish on a piece. I used to start work when it was already well into the evening and would go until after the dawn, but in the last couple years I’ve reversed that schedule. Now I usually get up around 4am. I still get the benefits of nocturnal studio time that way, at least until the sun is up—no one bothers me and it’s quiet. I’ve become a Daywalker—I have all of the vamipre’s strengths and none of the weaknesses.

 A typical day is trying to stay focused while fending off my own distractions (I’m ADD) and steering around having to leave the house for anything, ha. I always start with a bit of doodling to warm up a little, then jot down a thumbnail sketch of whatever’s on the agenda that day—usually very small and rough, just to set the composition and borders. 

Sometimes I’ll spend extra time fleshing out details on certain aspects of the drawing, say a helmet or insignia. Then I’ll figure out my dimensions and either draw to size or use my trusty proportion wheel to do it smaller if need be. Next is the hard pencil stage. I like using 2H or 3H lead which is rough on the paper but much less messy than a soft lead. I don’t work with a loose outline, I need a solid and tight map to work from and when I have it on lock, I’ll transfer it to my final surface. 

That method goes for both a black and white ink piece or a painting. I’ll warm the brush up by laying our some strokes on scrap paper and when I feel like I got a grip on it, off I go. If it’s a painting, I lay all the color and shading out first, then put down the linework. And even if my pencils were tight, there’s always room for improvisation, a tweak or two, especially when I’m inking—some happy accidents come up now and then. I should mention that I sometimes have to chuck a drawing and start the process all over again, even if it’s close to completion because if it isn’t working, screw it. It seems wasteful and time consuming and I could probably avoid it by going digital, but I choose to do it old school.

What’s your tool of the trade medium-wise? And is there a new medium you’re looking to try in 2018? I swear by my brush and ink. Nothing gives me more satisfaction. The artists I’ve always admired most are handy with a brush line. Not to say I don’t like pens, it’s just that I’m not as steady using one and leave them for doodling. I love papier mache, it’s not a new medium to me, but I’ve yet to know how to make the time to do it more so let’s say that that is my goal for 2018. If there was any other medium that I’d choose to do over drawing, it would be that.

You’ve worked on many collaborations with bands and created some awesome cover art and posters. What has been your favorite collaboration and what would be a dream collaboration be? Oooh. That’s a toughy. I did a tour shirt for Mastodon this past year and I have to say that was likely the pinnacle so far. When I caught their show later, it was thrilling to see people buying it at the merch table and to know there’s maybe hundreds more out there wearing it. Dream collaboration…probably the Melvins. Or Alice Cooper? But with the Melvins I know I could just probably do me and not worry about whether or not I’m a good fit. I’m not what you would call “conventional”.

What are you listening to when you’re painting your various creatures and demons? Give us five bands you’re checking out at the moment. I listen to music when I sketch/conceptualize and switch to podcasts or play a favorite movie or show when I’m really into the process, it’s comforting to hear people talk during the heavy work for some reason. It’s another long list but some of my go-to bands are High On Fire, Sleep, Windhand, Black Cobra and Slayer. That’s if I want it crushing. If I’m doing something trippier, it’ll be Om, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Dead Meadow, that kind of thing. Podcasts are generally true crime or comedy.

What’s been the hardest challenge being an artist? What do you tell folks who want to travel down a similar path? I don’t recall the artist’s name who said it, but to paraphrase, the quote was that art can often be a dark and lonely pursuit for us. I believe he was referring more to the fact that we spend a lot of our time working in solitude which is inherent, yet it can also weigh you down emotionally. That really speaks to me, even more so because I’ve also wrestled with depression for most of my life. 

Your work can be so entwined with your sense of self-worth, so I suppose the hardest challenge for me is to not let my heart sink when something I make doesn’t receive the attention I hope to get for it. People can be fickle though. I try to remember that, and move on to the next thing. With that in mind I guess I tell folks to make sure they get out of their lairs when possible and share their frustrations with other artist friends, foster a support group of sorts because it helps to know you aren’t alone out there with all these feelings. That and maintain a regular paying job when they start out, because man…it can be tough making a living at it.

In another dimension, what would you be if you weren’t an artist? I’d be that weird old sorcerer living somewhere in the woods that the villagers speak of in whispers. Benevolent, but not to be trifled with. So, not too much different from what I am in this dimension, just with blue skin, maybe.

What are your favorite Vans?  Chukka Low? Old Skool? Era? (I had to look up the actual names). Basically low padded ankle with laces, and always dark colors with a black toe because I don’t like my vision being drawn down to my feet moving under me. I honestly don’t wear any other brand of kicks. I keep a pair of Slip-Ons for doing things around the house. Vans makes good jeans too.

What’s the art scene like in your part of the woods? What do you like the most about where you’re living these days? The scene that I know here is primarily illustration, at least that’s what I keep my eyes out for. Lots of sweet, supportive people without attitude and many that are good friends. There aren’t as many galleries as there used to be but there are other venues to get your work out there. I’m now in a part of SE that I’ve never lived in before, at the edge of being outside of Portland proper but only just so. It’s mellow and quiet here and most things I need are within walking distance. I got a couple stores, a good Mexican food place, a bar, you get my drift. I do wish some of my besties lived closer by though. And a decent art supply store.

Since this feature is called Art School, can you give us your most helpful art tip? This probably won’t make me popular by saying it, but learn the difference between homage and theft. Yes, it’s fun to pay tribute to an artist’s style or someone else’s pop culture/intellectual property now and then, I’ve done it, we’ve all done it, not shaming that…but the difference is, if ALL you’re doing is copying, it comes off as creatively lazy. I don’t care how many followers you may gain from it. Come on. If you’re skilled enough to copy someone else’s shit, you’re skilled enough to make up your own content. Raise the bar, people. Don’t lower it.

What’s on the horizon for 2018? New merch in my shop, a group show in Mexico City, more band stuff, my first trip to NY ever, toy releases, designs and customs, a collaboration or two, hopefully a couple of conventions later in the warm months. I’d like get back into painting on a larger scale and figure out how to take it slower in general, make my work really level up, you know? There’s always room for improvement!  

Follow Martin | Website | Instagram | 

[canaryatlaw]

WOW I’M TIRED my melatonin kicked in really fast apparently. but today was super fun! Woke up at 9:30, got dressed and grabbed my stuff, then Jess picked me up and we were on our way to Northwest Indiana Comic Con, another state I had never been to (so that makes Iowa, Wisconsin, and Indiana states I’ve visited for the first time because of cons). The drive wasn’t bad, we stopped at Culver’s once we got to Indiana because cheese curds, then continued on to the convention center, which had a giant line outside of it to get tickets that they were doing manually, and we ended up waiting on it outside for a solid 35 minutes and thankfully it wasn’t like, horrifically cold, but it was definitely a less than desirable temperature (I at least had my catwoman leather jacket on with gloves, Jess was just freezing) but we eventually got inside and bought tickets ($10) and got to the main convention room, which was actually really big for a fairly small con. So we took a loop of it and looked at everything, then Jess got a few artists to commission Ava Sharpe art for her, and we kept looking at stuff. At one point we sat down to watch the kids cosplay parade, which was legit the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, omg, there were so many tiny children dressed as superheroes it was SO adorable, the cutest little boy was dressed as flash and he just ran right across the stage and into the arms of the (adult) spider-man on the other side of the stage who they were posing for photos with and I fucked died from the cuteness. There was also a little girl that had been in front of us on line dressed as a Porg and I died because it was so. fucking. cute. But yeah, for most of the rest of the time we circled and picked up a few things here and there, I got a button that has a shark on it and says “I just want to eat cake” because mood? and also a postcard sized print of a drawing of Esmeralda because I’ve been obsessing over Hunchback lately and I fucking love her. I ended up getting a few vinyl decals (more on those later) and a larger print that has Wonder Woman along with a string of adorable children and like, it was just the greatest. I also got cotton candy at one point because I mean, it’s cotton candy, I clearly needed it. But yeah, got the drawings and such done and headed out around 4 because we were both kind of starving. We went to a Cracker Barrel that was close by because I mean who doesn’t love Cracker Barrel?? I got their “sampler” dinner which had chicken and dumplings, meatloaf, and ham, the meatloaf ended up being gross but there was still a shitton of food so I was quite pleased with it. Our waitress was super nice and didn’t charge us for our drinks, so I gave her a nice tip (which is actually kind of a genius waitstaff move, not putting the drinks on the bill so the client will tip more to you, but hey I still appreciated it). I had to of course look through their candy collection because they have good shit, and I ended up getting two bars of Turkish taffy (which is the shit) and a super long piece of double bubble gum because I am reveling my recent regaining of the ability to chew gum (long story). So I bought those and then we headed out, not too long of a drive home. Got dropped off, and then spent a while trying to get the decals I got to stick on my wall which ended up being a bit of a shit show, the first one was a Superman insignia which was all one piece and easily came off and went on the wall. but then I saw the supposed instructions that you’re supposed to use, because there’s a front sticky clear layer, then the sticker, and then the white backing, and it was saying to peel off the back first, then place the sticker, then peel off the front, whereas with the first one I peeled off the front, then peeled it from the back and stuck it on. but I tried to do it on the second one, a Wonder Woman insignia, but I couldn’t get the sticker part to actually stick to the clear side and not the white side, so I ended up just trying to do the same thing I had a first, but that turned into a whole mess because it wasn’t all one piece and ended up getting all mangled and I sadly had to throw it away. The last one was this cool Gryffindor one I really liked, also with several unconnected pieces, and I didn’t want to fuck it up so I was trying to figure out what I was doing wrong, and the first instructions was like “clean the surface and let dry” and I was like okay maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong because I have zero fucking common sense and when they said “surface” I thought they meant the front of the sticker, not the surface you’re going to stick the sticker on, and I realized this right after I put the sticker under water and was like FUCK. but in defense of my stupidity, it kind of worked?? the paper on the back becoming wet made it easier to peel off and if I was careful I could get it away from the sticker, but it wouldn’t come off all the way, there was still a thin layer of paper on the back that meant I couldn’t stick it on, so I spent a while trying to get that off, and I succeeded for almost all of it, except for the letters that make up “Gryffindor” which were all separate and it was just not working, so I ended up getting a bit creative, I had them stuck to the clear side but the back of them wasn’t sticky, so I covered them with a piece of tape, then pulled it off so that they were on the tape now, then put more tape on the top and bottom of that piece, and then stick it on the part of the sticker where the letters were supposed to be. And it actually worked pretty well, it looks pretty much like normal, just with a little tape visible, so I can live with that. well, now that I’ve subjected you to 490 words about attaching stickers to my wall (I checked because I was curious), I then sat down with my laptop and started watching some Game of Thrones, specifically episodes 8 and 9 of season 1, so I’m almost done with the first season. I find Sansa really annoying tbh, but I get that she’s like still a kid and clearly in a really shitty situation. I fucking love Arya and her sword trainer person, and how he fucking beat the crap out of all those knights with his wooden sword in defense of a child, and of course how Arya just straight up stabs a kid who’s trying to stop her because my girl knows how to survive, then just gets the fuck out of there and doesn’t look back, which was honestly probably the best thing she could’ve done in the situation, so props to her for that. Ned being in the dungeon sucks, and I was trying to keep up with the whole Starks more or less declaring war thing, and then of course they Daenerys situation (who I also freaking love) and how she makes the men stop abusing the women they conquered and just generally looking out for innocent people. I was kind of sad to see Jason Momoa’s character kind of die?? Like, obviously he starts out really shitty and basically rapes Daenerys, but they actually managed to work their relationship into a consensual one, and I just appreciate him for refusing to ever wear a shirt and just basically being ridiculous at all times, because how could I not appreciate that? But I’m also glad he got the chance to be Aquaman, because that man was born for that part and he’s fantastic in it. So yeah, I stopped at the end of episode 9, which of course ends with Ned Stark getting beheaded, which was like, I know he dies at some point but I think I read some article once about how actually survivable the injuries people survive on GoT are, and one of them was beheading (which the article was like uH NO about) so I’m not convinced he’s gone permanently, and it felt kind of early to kill off such a major player. Guess we’ll see. And yeah, after that I started getting ready for bed and here we are, did I mention I’m tired? I am soooooooooo glad I get to move my Sunday wake up time from 7:15 to 8:45 now that we’re going back to 3 services and I can attend the 10:30 instead of the 9:00. that’s sooooooo much better. So hopefully I’ll be slightly less dead than I otherwise would’ve been tomorrow. And on that note i should be getting to bed, so I’m going to do that now. Goodnight my dearies. Hope you enjoyed your Saturday.

[minnamarie1983-blog]

Quotes for Monday July 24,2017

Beauty quotes The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason. -John Cage The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. -Eleanor Roosevelt Some people look for a beautiful place; others make a place beautiful. Beauty has a lot to do with character. -Kevyn Aucoin Beauty awakens the soul to act. -Dante Alighieri Just because you are blind, and unable to see my beauty doesn't mean it does not exist. -Margaret Cho I find beauty in unusual things, like hanging your head out the window or sitting on a fire escape. -Scarlett Johansson The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart. -Hellen Keller ========= Challenges quotes Above all, challenge yourself. You may well surprise yourself at what strengths you have, what you can accomplish.--Cecile M. Springer Accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victory.--Gen. George S. Patton Adventure is an attitude that we must apply to the day to day obstacles of life -- facing new challenges, seizing new opportunities, testing our resources against the unknown and in the process, discovering our own unique potential.--John Amatt All my life I've always had the urge to do things better than anybody else.--Babe Didrikson Zaharias Because our gifts carry us out into the world and make us participants in life, the uncovering of them is one of the most important tasks confronting any one of us.--Elizabeth O'Connor (Eighth Day of Creation: Gifts and Creativity) Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.--Roger Crawford The big challenge is to become all that you have the possibility of becoming. You cannot believe what it does to the human spirit to maximize your human potential and stretch yourself to the limit.--Jim Rohn ( Jim Rohn's Weekly E-zine - February 11, 2003) ========== Determination quotes George S. Clason Where the determination is, the way can be found. Leroy 'Satchel' Paige  Never let your head hang down. Never give up and sit down and grieve. Find another way. And don't pray when it rains if you don't pray when the sun shines. Claude M. Bristol  It's the constant and determined effort that breaks down all resistance and sweeps away all obstacles. Unknown Author Don't get discouraged; it's usually the last key in the bunch that opens the lock. Leonardo da Vinci  Obstacles cannot crush me. Every obstacle yields to stern resolve. He who is fixed to a star does not change his mind. ======== Hope quotes Hold your head high, stick your chest out. You can make it. It gets dark sometimes, but morning comes.... Keep hope alive.--Jesse Jackson Hope and possibility best describe the art of teaching.--Camille Banks Lee (from The Quotable Teacher, comp. by Howe) Hope arouses, as nothing else can arouse, a passion for the possible.--William Sloan Coffin, Jr. Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.--Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life) Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route.--François de la Rochefoucauld Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.--Saint Augustine Hope is a good thing--maybe the best thing, and no good thing ever dies.--Stephen King (The Shawshank Redemption) Hope is a pleasant acquaintance, but an unsafe friend.--Thomas Chandler Haliburton Hope is a talent like any other.--Storm Jameson Hope is a vigorous principle ... it sets the head and heart to work, and animates a man to do his utmost.--Jeremy Collier Hope is a waking dream.--Aristotle Hope is generally a wrong guide, though it is good company along the way.--George Saville ===== Joy quotes toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end. Horace Mix a little foolishness with your serious plans. It is lovely to be silly at the right moment. Billy Mills Your life is a gift from the Creator. Your gift back to the Creator is what you do with your life. George Bernard Shaw  The joy in life is to be used for a purpose. I want to be used up when I die. Chinese Proverb  One joy scatters a hundred grieves. Dr. Melba Colgrove  Joy is the feeling of grinning on the inside. Eileen Caddy  Live and work but do not forget to play, to have fun in life and really enjoy it. Sir James M. Barrie Those who bring sunshine into the lives of others, cannot keep it from themselves. Unknown Author I asked God for all things, that I might enjoy life. God gave life, that I might enjoy all things. ======= Kindness quotes Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this is the beginning of wisdom.--Theodore Isaac Rubin, M.D. Kindness is more than deeds. It is an attitude, an expression, a look, a touch. It is anything that lifts another person.--C. Neil Strait Kindness is never wasted. If it has no effect on the recipient, at least it benefits the bestower.--S. H. Simmons Kindness is the insignia of a loving heart.--Anonymous Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.--Mark Twain Kindness is the sunshine in which virtue grows.--Robert Ingersoll Kindness, I've discovered, is everything in life.--Isaac Bashevis Singer Kindness refreshes and restores the tired and broken.--Gerard Thomas Straub (When Did I See You Hungry?)

[doujinshijo]

HQS Statue - Eyeshield 21 Devil Bats

I’ve left this revelation rather late, and I feel kinda bad for it, but...I love Eyeshield 21. A lot. This was actually one of the very first manga that I ever read - I remember seeing it on Goodreads, being swayed by the positive reviews and deciding to give it a shot. I still don’t really know why I picked it over so many other popular manga - I didn’t like American football then and I still don’t now. Yet there’s something about this sports manga that gripped me and wouldn’t let me go. Yes, it’s the typical story - underdog athletes decide to make a team and take on the best players in the sport. I think what sets this apart are the characters. Every character - and there are a lot of them - contributes something unique and interesting to the palette of this series.There’s a lot of personal development going on too, with some of the characters struggling with some real personal issues. I ended up buying all 37 issues in the series and chain-reading them back to back. I still remember the withdrawal symptoms when I ran out and my next issue hadn’t been delivered yet.

I have plenty to say about Eyeshield 21, but for today I’m going to keep things simple and focus on one thing; my Deimon Devil Bats cast polyresin statue.

The Devil Bats HQS (High Quality Statue) is made by Tsume Art. Their HQS range is made of polyresin/PU, and this one is limited to just 400 pieces. I need to say this now - Tsume figures are awesome. I mean, insanely awesome. The detail and the paintwork are phenomenal, not to mention the sculpts themselves - all Tsume statues feature dynamic and exciting poses, often involving diorama-like props and environmental features. The tradeoff is that they’re pretty expensive; this statue cost me 339EUR, and that’s pretty cheap for their HQS pricing. Ouch.

From the very start, every little detail has been carefully thought out. Even the card packing box is emblazoned with the Deimon Devil Bat’s insignia. It all feels very luxurious.

Inside the card shipping carton is the figure’s actual box. It’s reproduced in glorious full-colour. It’s so funky and beautifully designed.

Check out the images on the back. I actually think that the images don’t do it justice - the figure itself is so unbelievably gorgeous it really surpasses these proto shots! I think it would have been nice to have a pattern or print behind the images to break up some of the excessive black empty spots but...meh. Who really cares about the box anyway?

This is what it’s all about. The cast figures are held in polystyrene, along with the turf base, a detachable 3D Devil Bat logo and the limited edition plate with your figure’s number on it. There are about 3 layers of polystyrene holding everything in. Kurita is so huge he pretty much spans all three layers.

The paint-job on this figure is outstanding. I honestly don’t think I have seen higher-quality painting. Look at the shading on Kurita’s face, shirt and hands. In my experience, shading on white clothes is normally overdone in blue on statues and figures; this is absolutely perfect.

Look at the subtle shadows in the creases of his fingers:

Now for Hiruma. Ahh, Hiruma. Hiruma is one of my favourite characters in, well, just about anything. His casting is beautiful. The football is detachable and held in the palm of his hand by a magnet. It’s powerful enough that there’s no risk of the ball falling free. It’s a little tricky to get it to sit properly against his fingers without any gaps though, and doesn’t really look like he’s holding it...more like it’s kind of floating in his hand. I don’t know why they didn’t just mould it to his hand. It’s a nitpicky point though. Check out the details on his leg pads and shoes. Even the freaking ball looks amazing.

What can I say? His face is perfection. They’ve captured his trademark sneer to a tee.

Here you can see what I mean about the magic floating ball. It’s not a big deal, really.

Finally, there’s Sena. Like the other two characters his casting is wonderful - it captures his gritty underdog determination and his limber speediness - not easy to do in a static figure! He balances on a dust cloud which a metal peg in the bottom of his feet press into. It’s a bit of a tight fit, and since he’s cast polyresin and his feet pegs are metal there’s not a lot of flex in them if you’re trying to force them. His cleats are meant to fit into little gaps in the cloud too to prevent him from leaning to one side, but they are shallow and can pop out of you knock him.

Sena comes with a replacement Eyeshield 21 head - it’s the only replaceable part of the statue. As much as I love the Sena head, I kind of think it’s more appropriate to display Eyeshield in all of his incognito glory. The head’s immaculately detailed down to the green eyeshield, safety bars and branding on the side. 

I had to recreate my favourite ES image - the one where Eyeshield 21 emerges from the dust in his first game against the Cupids. 

Here is the whole crew:

This cast figure weighs about 5kg and is around 25cm square, so it’s pretty hefty. It’s also one of the only Eyeshield figurines you can buy (dammit, why wasn’t it more popular?!). Tsume-Art have now sold out but you can probably find this in the aftersale market, e.g. Ebay etc. If you’re an ES21 fan, needless to say this is a must-have. You will not be disappointed by the super-high quality production of this statue.

[dazzledbybooks]

Ever since her mother walked out, Trix McCabe has been determined to make it on her own. And with her near-magical gift for pulling valuables off unsuspecting strangers, Trix is confident she has what it takes to survive. Until she’s caught and given a choice: jail time, or go live with her long-lost family in the tiny town of Rocksaw, Kansas. Trix doesn’t plan to stick around Rocksaw long, but there’s something special about her McCabe relatives that she is drawn to. Her aunt, Mia, bakes pies that seem to cure all ills. Her cousin, Ember, can tell a person’s deepest secret with the touch of a hand. And Trix’s great-aunt takes one look at Trix’s palm and tells her that if she doesn’t put down roots somewhere, she won’t have a future anywhere. Before long, Trix feels like she might finally belong with this special group of women in this tiny town in Kansas. But when her past comes back to haunt her, she’ll have to decide whether to take a chance on this new life . . . or keep running from the one she’s always known. With lovable and flawed characters, an evocative setting, and friendships to treasure, A Constellation of Roses is the perfect companion to Miranda Asebedo’s debut novel The Deepest Roots. A Constellation of Roses by Miranda Asebedo Publisher: HarperTeen Release Date: November 5th 2019 Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Book Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41021973-a-constellation-of-roses Amazon: https://amzn.to/31zyTR2 Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Constellation-Roses-Miranda-Asebedo/9780062747105?ref=grid-view&qid=1568883944503&sr=1-1 B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-constellation-of-roses-miranda-asebedo/1129473584#/ Google Books:  https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/A_Constellation_of_Roses.html?id=TBb9wQEACAAJ&redir_esc=y iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/a-constellation-of-roses/id1451488194 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/hk/en/ebook/a-constellation-of-roses Favorite Quotes: "Fortune telling isn't a science. It's an art. And sometimes art is messy." “When I remove my hands from my face I see that he’s grinning too. That scar pulls at his eye, and that’s when I realize that it only does that sometimes when he smiles, not every time. I don’t know why, but this seems important." “Scars tell a story, even when we don’t want them to.” "How do I stay active when I have frequent bladder leaks?" "I can run away as easily as I have all the times before. I slipped up going back to the starlight. I won't make that mistake again." “It’s both beautiful and frightening to feel like you’re being seen, truly, for the first time.” “All I know is that it’s the good memories that cut the deepest, because those are the ones where you remember what you’ve lost.” “I earn my money now. I don’t steal it. You don’t steal from a town where you mean to put down roots.” “I’ve been invisible for months at a time while I was drifting, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let someone make me feel that way on purpose.” Review: A Constellation of Roses by Miranda Asebedo is such a good book. I really enjoyed this one. Trix McCabe is a 17 year old girl who is gifted with being able to pick pocket without ever raising suspicion. She has been living in a motel ever since her mother left. She pays for this motel with cash every week. Her life is not great. It isn't even good. Drug addicts and johns visit this place all the time. The last thing that Trix feels is safe or loved. Everything is better than being back in the foster system. One day Trix is picked up by the cops and she has a choice to make. She can go to jail or she can move in with her long lost relatives in the middle of nowhere. Trix chooses not to go to jail. On top of everything these women has magical gifts. Trix has no idea what she got herself into. I thought the magical realism in this book was so good. Asebedo did such a great job with this concept of secret special magical gifts. This story has a lot of raw emotions and I really needed that in a book right now. I felt like this was such a beautiful story that focused on family and forgiveness. Trix has such a heartbreaking story and I am glad that Asebedo was able to tell it. Even though this book handles several heavier and difficult issues, Asebedor handled it was grace. I thought she did a great job making sure there was still hope in the book. Plus the humor helped. I can't get enough of this book. You should definitley check it out. Excerpt: Chapter 1 My hand slips into the woman’s gaping purse like it’s my own. Fingers nimble and sure on her wallet, I brush against her as if I am just impatient to get through the crowds of people milling around in the Eastside Mall. It’s not hard to do. Everyone here is in a rush to get to the next big sale. That’s why I always pick this place. And because it’s lightly patrolled by burly security guards who stand idly outside upscale department stores and watch for the wolves among the placid, woolly shoppers. My touch is only the softest graze against the woman; she doesn’t even notice. Before I can inhale a full breath of her expen- sive perfume, I’m gone, her billfold in hand. I stuff it into my beat-up bag and lose myself in the throngs of people. This is the third wallet tonight, and by the glimpse of the designer insignia, I’m guessing that I can retire for the evening. I only need enough to cover the week at the motel and maybe something to eat a couple times a day. I steal just enough to get by. No more, no less. I follow the stream of other shoppers as they trickle out of the mall, but when they go to the parking garage to load up their Mer- cedes and their BMWs, I pull on my hood and walk into the wind. It’s barely September, but lately the evenings are cool enough to make me hope I remembered to turn the radiator on low before I left the motel. One of the security guards making the rounds in the parking lot briefly scrutinizes a girl with a black hoodie and ripped jeans and says something into his walkie-talkie, but I don’t worry about him. You see, I’ve got a gift. Once I watched a movie about this little boy who could heal people with his hands. They said he had “a gift from God.” I’ve never seen God, and from the few times I prayed with the pious foster mom whose husband whipped me with a belt when I spilled juice on their new carpet, it became clear to me that if there was a God, he didn’t see me, either. But my gift is okay, too, regardless of where it came from. My hands are swift, undetectable. I was born a thief. I’m sure there are more people out there like me. Some strange twist of DNA giving us gifts like perfect pitch or immor- tal cells or quick hands or even healing ones. I don’t think I was chosen or found worthy. I think I’m just damn lucky. Sometimes for fun I like to watch the security-camera footage at the bodega next to the Happy Host. I wander in the aisles, loading up, barely a shadow on the screen above the register, just someone in a hoodie with her hands firmly in her pockets. No one sees a thing. Ever. I catch a city bus on the next block, careful not to meet the eyes of the other commuters as we make our way to the west side of town. Sure, most of these people are the unseen—the busboys, the cleaning ladies, the trash collectors. But a few are thieves and pickpockets like me, and they’re on their way home, some licking their lips and others licking their wounds. I want to blend in with the unseen. Nothing in my bag but minimum wage and an empty lunch box, not stolen rent money. Instead I stare at the sturdy shoes of the older couple sitting across from me, their clasped hands resting between them on the vinyl seat. I get my sketchbook from my bag and begin to draw those hands with stolen pencils. Sketching my surroundings is something I’ve done since I was old enough to notice the shadows moving from the small split in the curtains of whatever motel room I was living in, some desperate admiration for the way dark and light give depth and meaning to everything. I use short, scratchy strokes to show the way the couple’s fingers intertwine, nicks on the knuckles where the dry, red skin has split. There’s something beautiful about the way her hands look as rough and cracked as his, so you can’t tell which hand belongs to which person. I like the bus because it makes me feel connected to other people, sharing their stories, even if only for a little while. But eventually, I always remember that I am still alone, and I close my sketchbook and watch the street signs for my destination. I get off at the dark stop two blocks away from the Starlite Motel. Keeping my head down and walking quickly, I ignore the voices and laughter from the doorways and the parking lots I pass. I don’t want to buy anything, and I’m not selling, either. As I get closer, I see that the motel sign says NO VACANCY, which means that the ladies who are my neighbors are probably working. Mom used to work with them sometimes, too, when we lived here. Until she said she was going to get a pack of cigarettes one August afternoon and never came back. That was a little over a year ago, in one of those brief, hopeful lulls when she said she was going to get clean again. I’ve been a lot of places since she left, but I keep drifting back here. I guess because it’s familiar. When I get to the Starlite, there are a lot of cars in the parking lot. It’s Friday, and men do stupid things with their paychecks. I stop at room 7 and, looking over my shoulder, I pull my keys out of my pocket. Once I’m inside, I immediately lock the door behind me and do a quick inspection of the room. I am alone. Mel, the night manager, has kind of a soft spot for the kids who live here, and that’s why he lets me rent a room even though I’m by myself and not eighteen. There aren’t many of us at the Starlite. Me, Charly, and the Quinter twins. Charly shares room 11 with her mom, and Janie Quinter, barely older than me, and her twins are one door down in room 12. The twins are little, though, and usually Charly watches them when their mom is working. Shane used to live here, too. I dump the wallets out on the queen bed. The coverlet is a faded floral print, and it sort of matches the brown carpet and the yellowed curtains. I thumb through my haul, checking every pos- sible pocket for cash that might be hidden. I peel out carefully folded, clean bills. That’s what I like about rich people. Even their money smells better. There’s three hundred seven dollars. Sighing in relief, I clutch the crisp cash to my chest. It’s enough to pay for another week at the Starlite and food for a while. Not a bad night at all. I take half the money and cram it into the jar I keep in the toilet tank, careful to screw the lid back on tightly so my stash doesn’t get wet. No one ever thinks to look in the toilet tank. They always look under the mattress, in the top drawers of the dresser, the cupboard in the corner. I shove the other half of the money into my pocket to pay the rent. The stolen billfolds go in the metal trash can I’ve designated as the burn trash. There’s a small outdoor grill behind the Starlite, and I burn everything but money. I’m not stupid. Credit cards, IDs: those are traceable. I only take the cash. Marie leaves the bot- tle of lighter fluid out there. Who knows what the young, pretty maid burns, but I’m not alone in my activities. My stomach growls. I check the small clock that hangs above the kitchenette area. Calling it a kitchen is a little extravagant when it’s really only a hot plate and a bathroom sink with a dish drainer next to it. I should’ve stopped at the QuikMart to grab a bite on the way home, but it was late, and I knew I should get back before Mel started playing cards with the old man who lives in room 2. Once they start drinking, it’s hard to say if my rent will make it into the till or into the game. I hesitate by the door. I don’t want to go all the way back to the QuikMart, so I do something nice for myself. I order a pizza. Not a cheap one, either. I order one of those deluxe ones from Sal’s, the kind that leaks grease through the cardboard so it leaves stains on the coverlet. I can live off one of those for a couple of days. Then I leave the motel room and lock the door behind me. Hood up, head down, I make my way to the main office. “Trix! Hey, Trix!” The sound of my name seizes my shoulders and urges me to run before I recognize the voice. Charly. “Hey,” she says, jogging up beside me. “Thought that was you. Rent time, huh? Mom just sent me to pay for next week, too.” She holds up the wad of cash so I can see it, the cheap gold rings on her fingers glinting in the lights from the neon NO VACANCY sign. “Don’t flash that around,” I hiss, watching the two guys leaning on an Impala in the parking lot. I don’t know if they’re staying here or waiting for someone, but I don’t want to catch their attention by looking like we’re two easy marks. Charly shrugs and stuffs the money in the pocket of her snug jeans. “What’s the fun of having money if you can’t show it off?” she asks. “Anyway, what are you doing tonight? Can I come over?” “Aren’t you watching the twins?” I ask. “No, Janie’s sick, so she’s not working.” Charly’s a year younger than me, but there’s a tightness in her face, a hardness that makes her seem older. I don’t know; maybe I look that way to other people, too. “You can come over if you want,” I tell her, knowing there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll blow me off. Anytime a boyfriend texts, she bails on plans with me. But tonight, I could use the company. I haven’t spoken to another person in nearly a week. Just me in a crowd, me in my room. Just me, alone. Sometimes drifting can be lonely, and it would be nice to feel that somebody cares I’m here. So I add, knowing it will sweeten the deal, “I’ve got a pizza com- ing.” Charly grins, revealing the large gap between her front teeth. “I’m starving.” We both go into the empty motel office, the small bell on the door alerting Mel and Room 2 Old Guy in the back room that we’re there. Mel lumbers in and leans on the front desk, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got the week’s rent for room 11,” Charly says, holding out the wad of cash. Mel takes it, making a face at the crumpled bills. “Tell your mama to stop leaving her shit in the only working dryer,” he grumbles. “Yeah?” Charly says, crossing her arms. The motel has a tiny laundry room with two machines that are out of order more than they’re working. I just wash my clothes in the sink. “Why don’t you fix the other damn dryer, Mel? And since we’re bitching, tell Marie to stop stealing my stuff when she comes in to change the sheets.” Mel grins. He likes spunk. “Room seven,” I tell Mel, handing him my money and avoid- ing the argument altogether. “Another week?” he asks, as if he’s surprised. This will be my second week in a row here. I know I should change motels again, but this one feels safe to me. I guess it’s because Mom and I lived here for three years before she left, which makes it the longest time we ever lived anywhere, and the closest thing to a home. The picture I drew with stolen charcoal pencils on the day we moved in is still on the wall, still hidden behind the generic framed picture of a palm tree on a beach that hangs in every room at the Starlite. “Just one more,” I tell him. “Tell Marie I’ll pick up clean sheets tomorrow. I can change them myself.” Marie’s okay, but Charly’s right: that girl’s got sticky fingers. I would know. “Sure, kid. You going to be in your room tonight? Check out the free movie channels. Some kind of promo from the cable company.” I shrug. “Yeah. No big plans.” Or any in recent months. Charly and I wish Mel good luck with his card game, and then she leaves me at my door to go down to her room. “Let me grab something to drink,” she says. “I’ll be back in a few.” I unlock my door and go inside, carefully locking it again behind me. If I know Charly, she’ll be bringing back a red plastic cup nearly full of vodka she swiped from her mom, and a few cans of soda to cut it with. The guy who fills the vending machine by the front office has a thing for Charly, and he’s always leaving cans of Sprite or Coke by her door like they’re bouquets of flowers. Surprising me given her track record, Charly gets back before the pizza. I know it’s her from the way she kicks the door with the toe of her worn-out sneakers because her hands are full. “Open up. It’s the police,” she bellows, knowing it will terrify all our neighbors. Laughter peals outside the door. Charly never could keep straight-faced during a joke. I peer at her through a crack in the curtains, just in case, before I open the door. There’s a few muffled thuds and then some swearing from the room next door when they realize it’s just Charly out there. She whisks inside with her arms full of exactly what I thought she’d have. When Charly’s mixed us drinks with the cheap plastic cups from the kitchenette, she spills her guts as we lounge on the hard bed, the television turned to a comedy on Mel’s free movie chan- nel. She and her mom are on the rocks again, and she has to dump Dante because he’s still cheating on her, this time with some rich girl on the East Side. Nothing is good anymore, she says, not like it used to be. She twirls her hair as she talks, sips carefully from her drink before she drops her next words. “Let me come with you next week.” “What do you mean?” I ask her, taking a slug of the drink and wincing at the burn. Charly was a little heavy-handed with the vodka, which doesn’t surprise me now that I know she wants something. “You never stay here long anymore. Not like when your mom was still around. I know you’ll leave again. So take me with you.” She looks down into her cup. “I want out. I’m tired of living with my mom. I’m tired of the johns hanging around, and babysit- ting every night, and just living in this shitty motel.” “So you’re just going to drop out of school and hit the road?” I ask. “Why not? You haven’t gone to school regular since your mom left.” I read once that when you lose an arm or a leg, sometimes you get phantom pain, this ache where there’s nothing left to hurt. That’s what it felt like, since Mom walked out. I know she felt like she could never forgive herself for all the things that had happened between us, and maybe she could never forgive me, either, but somehow her absence hurts even more than having her here. You can’t forgive someone if they never come back to you. It wasn’t that I didn’t like school, it was just that I had lost interest in books and tests and tardy slips when Mom left and what small foundation I had crumbled apart. Also, you need a guardian to enroll, and I’d sworn off those about six months ago, after I’d run away from my last group home. “You going to get a job? Or am I supposed to be your sugar mama in this scenario?” I take another swig of the drink and let the vodka sing in my bones, willing it to drown out that phantom pain. “I’ll find a way,” she says. “If Shane was here, he’d help me out. He was going to get us out of here, you know. He promised.” I know she means well when she brings him up. I know she has as much right as I do to say his name. He was my boyfriend for only a year before he went to prison, after all, and Shane had been Charly’s brother all her life. But it stings anyway. I set my cup down on the nightstand and slide off the bed. I go into the bathroom, shut the door, and sit down on the edge of the grimy bathtub. I only need a minute. I haven’t talked about Shane or Mom for a long time. It’s easier that way. I hear Charly standing on the other side of the door. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice muffled. “I shouldn’t have brought him up. We just haven’t talked about him in forever, and I thought you were probably over him by now.” There’s a soft clink of her rings against the knob, but she doesn’t turn it. When you live in a motel with paper-thin walls, you learn to respect boundaries. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. Even if you’d been with him, it wouldn’t have ended any different.” I hear the scrape of her rings as she pulls her hand away. The truth is, I am over Shane. Or I think I am, anyway. Mostly now I feel guilt when I remember him. My gift would have protected him if we had been together when everything happened. But even Shane didn’t really believe me back then. It was luck, he said, when I tried to convince him. I stand up and flush the toilet like I’m not a coward hiding in a motel bathroom. There’s a knock at the door, three times, quick and insistent. Charly calls, “Pizza’s here!” “Wait! Look before you open it!” I shout, flinging open the bathroom door. But it’s too late. Two uniformed police officers are standing outside. “We’re looking for Trixie McCabe,” the younger, female officer says, her hands on her belt. “There’s no Trixie here,” Charly lies easily, starting to close the door. “You have the wrong address.” The other officer, an older man, puts up a hand to stop her from shutting them out. He stares at me where I stand dumbly in the frame of the bathroom door, the toilet still running behind me. He’s seen me already, and slamming the door or running isn’t going to make any difference now. I hear swearing and slamming, other people in the Starlite getting out before the cops come knocking on their doors, too. The older cop holds out the same photo the foster homes always use when I run away. Long dark hair, light-olive skin, and gray-green eyes that glare angrily into the camera. “Miss McCabe, we’re going to need you to come with us,” he says. About the Author: Miranda Asebedo was born and raised in rural Kansas with a love of fast cars, open skies, and books. She carried that love of books to college, where she got her B.A. and M.A. in English, with an emphasis in Creative Writing and Literature. A Seaton Fellowship recipient, her short fiction has appeared in Kansas Voices, Touchstone, and Midway Journal. Miranda still lives on the prairie today with her husband, two kids, and two majestic bulldogs named Princess Jellybean and Captain Jack Wobbles. If Miranda's not writing or reading, she's most likely convinced everyone to load up in the family muscle car and hit the road. Author Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16987401.Miranda_Asebedo Website: https://www.mirandaasebedo.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/MirandaWriteNow Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mirandawritenow/ Giveaway:  Prize: Win a copy of A CONSTELLATION OF ROSES by Miranda Asebedo (INT) Starts: 5th november 2019 Ends: 19th November 2019 Photo Credit: Alexis Bestwick  Fan Art / Photo Credit: Elvishness a Rafflecopter giveaway Tour Schedule: https://fantasticflyingbookclub.blogspot.com/2019/09/tour-schedule-constellation-of-roses-by.html November 18th The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club - Welcome Post November 19th Bookish Looks - Guest Post Books and Blends - Review Book-Keeping - Review + Favourite Quotes The Reading Corner for All - Review Book Blog London - Review + Favourite Quotes November 20th Wishful Endings - Guest Post Here's to Happy Endings - Review + Favourite Quotes Belle's Archive - Review + Favourite Quotes We Live and Breathe Books - Review What's She Reading? - Review November 21st NovelKnight - Interview onemused - Review Dazzled by Books - Review + Favourite Quotes Avid Reader - Review Booked J - Review November 22nd A Book Addict's Bookshelves - Guest Post Confessions of a YA Reader - Review + Favourite Quotes For The Love of Fictional Worlds - Review Morgan Vega - Review + Favourite Quotes bewitchingwords - Review + Favourite Quotes November 23rd Book Rambler - Review Sometimes Leelynn Reads - Review + Favourite Quotes The Clever Reader - Review + Favourite Quotes To All The Books I've Read Before - Review + Playlist biblioxytocin - Review + Favourite Quotes November 24th L.M.Durand - Interview The Shelf Life Chronicles - Review The She Revelation Book Blog - Review + Favourite Quotes emily the book nerd - Review + Playlist The Heart of a Book Blogger - Review + Book Aesthetic Instagram Schedule: November 18th FFBC Tours TUABFC November 19th Bookish Looks Book-Keeping The Reading Corner for All Book Blog London November 20th Wishful Endings Here's to Happy Endings Belle's Archive November 21st NovelKnight onemused Avid Reader Booked J Dazzled by Books November 22nd Confessions of a YA Reader For The Love of Fictional Worlds Morgan Vega November 23rd Sometimes Leelynn Reads The Clever Reader biblioxytocin November 24th L.M.Durand  The She Revelation Book Blog emily the book nerd The Heart of a Book Blogger The Shelf Life Chronicles

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